


Swear not by the Moon

by starrika



Category: Last of the Mohicans (1992), The Last of the Mohicans - James Fenimore Cooper
Genre: Colonialism, F/M, Interracial Relationship, Period Typical Attitudes, Women Being Awesome
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-17
Updated: 2018-04-20
Packaged: 2019-04-24 09:38:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,812
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14352816
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starrika/pseuds/starrika
Summary: Alice expected to return to Portman Square, full of tales of red men and wild America as a bit of embellished adventure straight from the novels she loved. Instead, Alice finds herself challenged to match her sister's fortitude when they are faced with a very real enemy on the George Road.





	1. One

**Author's Note:**

> This is a fic I began a decade ago titled Flutter, which followed the movie from Alice’s perspective. I never finished it, although I always meant to, with one ending that reflected the movie, and another which was an AU where Alice and Uncas lived. However, it was a sloppy mess – and not just with grammar and punctuation. Clunky dialogue, flowery metaphors, and “magical Indian” tropes abounded. I knew I could do better. After reading Myrrhee’s lovely works in this fandom, I was inspired to pick it up once more.
> 
> One word of warning – there is some language and ideas in this fic that people today would find offensive. There is canon-typical racism, classism, and misogyny. Although I have tried to develop Alice as a strong female character, her choice of language is sometimes constricted by the time period and may not be acceptable standard for today. 
> 
> If I misrepresent any indigenous culture or language, please tell me. I am trying my best to be historically accurate, so constructive criticism is always welcome.

**_Albany, New York_ **

**_August, 1757_ **

**_***_ **

What surprised Alice most, upon her arrival in the colonies, was the _color_ . The fields and trees were verdant, with bright sun highlighting every flower dotting the pastures. It was truly glorious. While her beloved Highlands were majestic – truly, one could not surpass the views in Alness – Albany’s wildness quite took her breath away. Shakespeare wrote of _painting meadows with delights_ , and Alice finally thought she understood what he had meant. Every leaf and flower seemed to glow with the warm sunlight. It was certainly far better than the gloom of London, where she and Cora had been exiled since the Battle of Falkirk under the care of a dour spinster aunt, save for a few safe postings when they could stay with Papa in Ireland or Austria for a time. After a harrowing six weeks at sea, Alice felt she had arrived at a veritable Garden of Eden when they settled at Albany.

 

However, the beautiful landscape was sometimes marred by its people. Albany was rustic compared to London, and there was a simmering resentment in town that Alice could not ignore. The Earl of Loudon had assumed command of British forces two years prior, and he had forcibly quartered many of his troops in private homes in Albany, rather than the barracks and inns that were typical of Papa’s previous postings. They were billeted with a widow who seemed not displeased with the situation – probably because hosting a ranking officer and his daughters was less of a nuisance than disorderly soldiers. Alice had heard poor tales of the _Black Watch_ regiment and their brutish behavior. Aside from some merchants and aristocrats, most of the town seemed eager to see the backside of the lot of them. Alice could not blame the sentiment. Billeting soldiers was justified by the Earl in claiming the townspeople to be Dutch, but Mrs. Fraser and her deceased husband had come from Inverness. From what she could discern, very few of the town were truly Dutch. Although Papa would never speak against orders, Alice hoped he found the situation appalling. ‘Twas no way to treat a citizen of the crown.

 

Papa tried his best to maintain discipline with his men. The _Orange Lillies_ were an orderly regiment, and Alice knew he frowned on his men making churlish demands on the townspeople. His efforts did not go unnoticed, thus leaving Alice and her sister better received than other officers’ families at times. When the 35th Foot was dispatched to Fort William Henry, it was decided that she and Cora would bide away with Mrs. Fraser, until he could determine it was safe to join him. Although matters in town were sometimes hostile, it was still far safer than the front lines of a war. Alice wondered if Mrs. Fraser had so keenly advocated for the sisters to stay, as it would prevent other soldiers from being billeted in her home. Alice admired that bit of cunning. She and Cora were to await Major Duncan Heyward’s arrival, and travel with his company’s protection to join Papa once matters were secure at the fort.

 

It was a far cry from Portman Square and the blether of London. Alice spent the summer with the drowsy hum of crickets and cicadas in her ears. She read aloud sometimes, as Cora efficiently cut bandages to be couriered. She embroidered a delicate chemise of fine linen to accommodate the colonies’ heat, as Cora tried to make her tinctures and salves without the benefit of a still. Alice taught little Minnie Fraser to read, while Cora put her brothers Michael and Niall through their paces with arithmetic to prepare for the coming school year. They both wrote long letters home, trying to assuage Aunt Agnes’ many worries and satisfy cousin Eugenie's taste for adventure. Later, Alice would think of this time as an idyll, not realizing it was the calm before a storm.

 

By the time Duncan arrived in August, Alice was truly content in Albany and lacked Cora’s relish for change. She had grown to like Mrs. Fraser and her three mischievous bairns, and preferred her only excitement in a day to be the discovery of a frog in Minnie’s bed. She disliked Duncan’s tendency to monopolize Cora’s attentions, and found him much changed since she had seen him last. Duncan had been a childhood acquaintance in Alness – a distant cousin on his mother’s side, from the cadet branch of Clan Munro. He had joined the Army with Papa’s recommendation, and had quickly ascended ranks. Alice had last seen him five years ago, his good humor then a stark contrast to his solemnity now. As a child, Duncan had been warm-hearted, slow to anger and quick to forgive, and had idolized Papa as a military officer. In Albany, there was little trace of the boy he had been. Duncan was stiff and overly formal, and treated Cora with a solicitousness that Alice could tell rankled her sister. Even that might have been pardonable, if a fraction of that solicitousness had extended to others. Instead, Duncan spoke to everyone in town as if he were a social superior – _nay_ , a commanding officer - from Mrs. Fraser’s children to the Indian trapper at the store. While he was unfailingly polite in his interactions with Alice, she had come to doubt the sincerity of his manners, leaving her with the unpleasant feeling that had she not been Cora’s sister and Colonel Munro’s daughter, she would have been treated with the same contempt. It was an unsettling thought.

 

They had not heard from Papa for several weeks, so although Alice was loath to leave Albany, she was eager to see her father again. He had always been a diligent correspondent during his campaigns, providing advice on their studies or moral lessons to consider, sometimes accompanied by a doll he had ordered for them, or more recently, a lovely new gown. Aunt Agnes had often remarked that he was a doting father, keen to indulge Cora’s interest in the surgery and Alice’s love of poems, even moreso after the death of their mother. He was her lodestar, and Alice felt directionless in this new American wilderness without him to guide her.

 

However, her excitement at leaving Albany to see him again - _with a real red man for a guide!_ \- faded quickly in the humidity and heat of the journey. The dense forest trees, so beautiful to sketch, stilled any breeze that might have lifted the oppressive air. Her fine linen chemise, so much lighter than the previous cotton, did little to assuage the heat in her heavy brocade riding habit. Alice could feel her dress sticking to her back and her stays dug unrelentingly into her ribs. She had asked Mrs. Fraser to loosen them when she had been laced, but had been chided for her unladylike desire. Once again, Alice found herself regretting Duncan’s arrival, for Cora never laced her quite so tight – but of course, Duncan had needed to consult with Cora before their departure, leaving Alice with little choice in who assisted her to dress this morn. Alice took a deep breath of air, fighting her growing dizziness as she felt herself sway in the saddle.

 

“Alice?” Cora was studying her intently, looking concerned.

 

Alice took another gasping breath, trying to force more air into her lungs and failing miserably in the damnable heat. “Can we stop?” she asked piteously, hating herself for the weakness. She knew all too well how women were a burden on the army. She had no desire to earn the company’s contempt just hours from Albany. She would not faint, she told herself firmly, her hands gripping the reins tighter and trying to will the dizziness back.

 

And then, suddenly, everything was madness. Their scout who was to lead them to Fort William Henry had turned to attack the company, and shots were coming from all directions in the trees that surrounded the company. Her horse reared, and Alice instinctively threw herself from the saddle, trying to avoid its body in the fall. She took another panicked, gasping breath, feeling as if she were drowning. She did not realize Cora had dismounted until she felt her sister’s arms encircle her. Looking down, Alice could see her own hands were trembling. A horse – _or was it a man?_ – screamed. A savage pulled out a knife and ripped a soldier’s scalp from his head. Alice swallowed bile in the back of her throat, unable to look away from the blood dripping from the dangling flesh to the ground. One by one, the men of the company fell, and the spell broke. Alice shrieked, burying her face in Cora’s lap, hands coming up to cover her ears as she desperately tried to block out the screams. She had heard tales of Indian massacres in Albany. They would surely die.

 

When Cora tensed, Alice raised her head tentatively, fearing the sharp bite of a knife. Instead, she was surprised to find new men fighting in their defense, aiding in the dispatch of their attackers. Following Cora’s lead, Alice stood slowly, letting herself slip behind her sister as she watched the unfamiliar men. One man was older, possibly Papa’s age, and Alice would have been tempted to call him graceful if he were not an Indian in a fight. Another man was _not_ an Indian, although he was dressed in the same buckskin, and Alice blinked as she watched him take Duncan’s rifle. The third man was another Indian, and Alice startled when she realized he was chasing off the horses.

 

“Stop it! We need them to get out of here!” Alice exclaimed, trying to grab one set of reins.

 

Firm hands gripped her arms, and Alice turned to look up at the man who had kept her from catching the horse. He was younger than the other two men, and his face was impassive. His brow was wide and unlined, as if he had never scowled a day in his life, and his eyes were kind as he studied her. He said nothing. Perhaps he did not speak English. Alice dropped her gaze under his inspection and let Cora lead her away, little hearing the conversation around her.

 

Somehow, their party had made the decision to continue on to Fort William Henry, although Albany was only hours away. Alice thought it to be madness. Surely it would be better to return to Albany and report the attack, rather than continue by foot to a fort nearly sixty miles away. With horses, they had planned two days to travel, with a stop at an inn along the George Road for a night. It could take them three days to walk to the fort – if these men even knew where they were going. Alice attempted to sigh in frustration, and realized once more just how tight her stays were laced. She felt a blush creep up her cheeks. She would not be able to walk very far if her stays remained so tightly laced.

 

“Cora,” she whispered anxiously.

 

“Aye?” Cora replied, her voice just as low. She had taken Alice’s hand once more, and gave it a reassuring squeeze.

 

Alice took a few rapid breaths, trying to slow her heart and her lungs. “My stays are much too tight. I cannot breathe.”

 

She was not sure what excuse Cora uttered, but Alice found herself hidden from the other men’s view within seconds. Her stays were positively unbearable, and she tried to be patient as Cora struggled with the pins on her dress. Alice sucked in a deep breath of air and sighed in relief as she felt her laces loosened. Her ribs ached from throwing herself from the horse, but she could blessedly, _finally_ breathe. Suddenly the air seemed far less oppressive than it had a quarter of an hour ago.

 

“Those are frightful bruises, Alice,” Cora hissed, as she adjusted her stays. “Mrs. Fraser laced you far too tight!”

 

Alice sighed again. “I am content to simply breathe,” she reassured her. “I shall leave the stays off at the fort, if I can find a different gown.”

 

“Aye, I suppose our wardrobe may be more limited,” Cora replied, a glimmer of wicked humor in her eyes. The pack horse with their clothing had be loosed with the rest, and Cora was always the type to laugh in the face of calamity. She had to admire Cora’s ability to do so, as Alice tended to cry.

 

“’Tis no excuse to don breeches,” Alice replied tartly, proud that her voice barely wavered. Once, when Cora had been particularly willful as a wee bairn, she had hidden all her dresses in the hayloft and gleefully donned their cousin Dougal’s breeches to go out to play in the paddock. That had been before Mama had died, and Alice remembered her laughing raucously with Papa upon discovering Cora’s new clothes. They had been too amused to give Cora a skelping.

 

“I promise you, I shall not,” Cora said with solemnity, although her eyes gleamed with amusement. Cora threaded an arm through hers in an encouraging manner as they returned from behind the trees. The men were impatient to be moving, Alice could tell. No one had any desire to encounter another war party. Keeping her eyes up, Alice let her sister lead the way, and avoided looking down at the slaughtered men on the ground. If she did not look, she could more easily try to press those panicked moments to the far corners of her mind – to try to forget the screams and the sound of the knife ripping through flesh. Alice pressed her hands into the folds of her skirts to hide their trembling. She could be strong, like Cora. Once they arrived at the fort, she could have a cry and all would be well. Papa would not send for them if there was truly any danger. If she kept telling herself that, Alice might even come to believe it true.

 

It did not take long before Alice’s skirts were manky and heavy with mud. The delicate pink flowers were stained brown, and there was a long rent down one side from snagging itself on a thorny branch, despite all of Alice’s best efforts to hold it aloft. The sweep of her train did nothing but catch mud and burrs. Cora’s dress looked no better. Neither dress was cut for walking, much less slogging sixty miles through heavy woods.

 

Alice studied the men who had helped them, trying to discern a motive from the lines on their faces or the cut of their hair. Their clothing told no tales, other than life on the frontier. It was the typical mix of roughspun and leathers she had seen most trappers wear. Alice stole another glance at the young man with the kind eyes, before steeling herself to do what Duncan and Cora would not. “Thank you for coming to our aid,” she said in a clear, firm tone – and was surprised by how the sound of her voice was swallowed by the trees. “ _Merci pour votre...nous aider_ ,” she added, knowing she had butchered the French. Her mind was whirling far too fast to remember her schoolroom conjugations.

 

The man who was not an Indian turned to look at her, eyes narrowed and face inscrutable. Alice dropped her eyes under his heavy gaze. She had no idea what he was searching for in her face, but he must have found it, for he replied with a terse, “You’re welcome.”

 

Cora looked affronted at the tone of his reply, but Alice could see the wry twist of the man’s mouth that tempered the tone of his voice. Truly, they were indebted to these men who had risked their lives to come to their aid. Alice could forgive far more than blunt speaking for that – particularly in the King's own  _English_. The trees parted, and Alice was faced with the clearest river she had ever seen, like a gift from heaven. They paused, and Alice drank the cool spring water from her hands greedily, feeling a wave of relief at taking a few moments of respite. The older man stooped to refill a canteen while Duncan encouraged Cora to be seated. Before taking a seat herself, Alice turned to the man once more. “I am Alice Munro, and this is my sister Cora. We are accompanied by Major Duncan Heyward, and – and what was his company,” she added haltingly. “While I would not say it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, under the circumstances, I am very grateful all the same. Would you introduce us to your party?” she asked, unsure if the two Indians also spoke English.

 

The corner of his mouth quirked up a little more. “Nathaniel Poe, at your service. This is Chingachgook and Uncas.”

 

Alice bobbed a quick curtsy as if they were not surrounded by wilderness, before taking a seat on another rock. Immediately, she chastised herself for the habit of a curtsy; they must think her a numpty fool. She darted her eyes over to look at the younger man – _Uncas_ – only to notice with surprise that he was studying her just as intently as his brother had a moment ago. She flushed and looked away. _Chingachgook_ , she mouthed to herself. It was a funny word with its guttural _g_ , but it _was_ his name. After coming to their rescue, it would be rude not to afford the men the courtesy of proper address. The light breeze over the stream was cooling, and Alice looked up at the swaying tree branches above her to appreciate the dappled sunshine. She remained in awe with the height of trees in the colonies. It was so different from home. While the Highlands were written off as untamed wildness in London, the forests of New York left her feeling small in a way she had never felt beside her beloved mountains. Every tree stood far upright into the sky, dwarfing their party and the view beyond. She wondered how these men knew their way through the forest, what unmarked trail they followed that she could not see. Were all colonists so adept in the forest or was it some magic of the red men?

 

Their rest was all too brief. Alice found herself lagging further behind Cora and Duncan as the trail began to slope upwards. The soft ground become more rocky and uneven as they followed along the river. Blessedly, the air remained cooler this close to the water. Alice sighed, and tried catch up to her sister. Cora had always outpaced her in their rambles through Hyde Park. Ever since Alice had the fever two winters ago, she had struggled to match Cora’s boundless energy. It should be no surprise to fall even further behind in traversing the wild terrain. Cora and Duncan appeared to be in discussion with Mr. Poe, while Chingachgook ranged ever further ahead of the group. Alice turned to look behind her, and blinked in surprise when she found Uncas in her shadow. Either she was too lost in thought, or the man barely made a sound when he walked.

 

“Och, I did not realize you were there,” she murmured as he came apace to her. “I am sorry, Mr. Uncas. I did not mean to lag behind.”

 

“Do you need an arm?”

 

Alice looked at him in surprise. She had not expected the Indians to speak English so clearly. His voice was mild and smooth, rather than guttural like she had heard from other red men. There was little expression on his face, leaving Alice to worry whether he was frustrated with her slow pace. His eyes still appeared kind, but she hesitated a moment. She could hear her own ragged breaths and frowned. “I do not want to distract you from keeping watch.”

 

“I can still keep watch,” he replied.

 

It was a gentlemanly offer, and unlike what she had heard of America’s savages. Alice could almost pretend she had an officer’s arm in Hyde Park. She gave Uncas a tentative smile – and then promptly tripped over a jutting rock. She threw her arms out to brace for a fall, but found herself for the second time that day caught ‘round the arms by Uncas. He settled her back on her feet, hands lingering for a moment as if to make sure she was truly upright. Alice felt herself flush. “Sorry, Mr. Uncas,” she repeated.

 

He offered his arm again, and she took it gratefully, taking care to watch the ground as she made the next few steps. “I am no mister, Miss Alice.”

 

“But – I dinnae what to call you then,” she said after a moment of wracking her brain, wondering if red men had different titles. She winced at the slip of her brogue, knowing it would have earned a rap across the knuckles from her former governess.

 

She could see him slant a look at her from the corner of his eyes before going back to scanning the trees around them. “Uncas.”

 

“Just Uncas?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“But what does it mean?” Alice blurted out. She immediately bit her lip at the impertinence. However, when she snuck a glance up at him, the corner of his mouth was quirked up as if he were amused at her interrogation.

 

“Fox.”

 

Alice studied him for a moment. “It suits you,” she said decidedly, somewhat horrified at her boldness. Aunt Agnes would have chided her for being a hoyden. It was a refrain Cora heard often growing up. Alice could not seem to stop blurting out every thought that crossed her mind, and was dismayed by her lack of manners. The ambush seemed to have knocked all sense out of her.

 

They lapsed into silence. Alice was displeased to see that despite Uncas’ assistance, the rest of their party had continued to outpace her. She sighed before noticing a sweet trill of birdsong. Her spirits lifted when she noticed a white dove perching on a low branch before her, and hoped it to be a good omen. Cora often chided her for being superstitious, but Alice would have been low indeed had it been a magpie instead.

 

“You speak English very well,” she commented as he steered her around a loose rock.

 

“My brother and I went to school. Father thought it would be important.”

 

“Mr. Poe is your brother?” Alice questioned in surprise, then hastily added, “Forgive me, that was rude.”

 

He took a moment to look at her fully. His eyes were not black, she realized, but a very dark brown. “How is that rude? He does not look like my brother,” he replied. He went back to observing the forest, guiding her around another outcropping. Alice was not sure how he could simultaneously watch their path and the trees. “My father adopted him when we were young.”

 

She could see Cora turn around to look back for her, and despite the distance, Alice could picture the worried look on her sister’s face. For all her brashness, Cora had a tendency to be a mother hen. After their mother’s death, she had taken to fretting over Alice, as if through sheer will, she could take Mama's place. Although it could rankle at times, Alice indulged her sister, for Cora was happiest when she had something to do. After Mama’s death, Cora never sat idle, as if she were afraid her grief could then catch up to her. Aunt Agnes had often said despairingly that Cora took after their Papa. It all seemed rather exhausting to Alice. She was so lost in her thoughts that she did not realize the gravel in her path until she felt her feet slide from under her. She stumbled – Uncas’ firm arm the only thing keeping her upright – and stepped on her dress, completely ripping the hem out.

 

“Rest a moment,” Uncas told her, guiding her over to a larger rock. He kept a tight grip on her arm and Alice felt a rush of shame. He must think her an incapable child.

 

He let out a sharp whistle which got the attention of their group. Cora turned to look back at Alice once more, but she was ushered to a seat by Duncan before she could walk back to her sister. Uncas handed her a flagon of water, and Alice gave a sigh of relief before taking a long drink. The water was not cool, but she was so thirsty she did not care.

 

“Thank you,” she murmured, passing it back to him. He took a long drink of his own, and Alice’s eyes traveled downward, noting the tattoos peeking out from the collar of his shirt. Her stomach fluttered, and she looked over at the river, sure that she was blushing once more. She had heard tales of the red men's tattoos, but she had never actually  _seen_ one before. Aunt Agnes would be horrified to catch her studying a half-clothed savage. _Then again, Aunt Agnes is horrified by everything_ , a traitorous voice whispered in the back of her mind. It sounded rather like Cora at her most impish. Uncas had nobly risked his life to come to the aid of strangers, and was escorting her with manners better than half the _Black Watch_. Alice firmly decided to be more like her sister. If admiration for such a man was improper, she resolved not to care.

 

When their trek resumed, Alice took Uncas’ offered arm this time with no hesitation, letting him guide her as best he could over the rough patches. Her body was already beginning to ache and her legs felt leaden and weary. The sun was high enough in the sky that Alice could tell there were hours more of this blistering pace. When they reached a steep cliff, Alice took a moment to look out over the waterfalls to calm herself. They were beautiful. A sunbeam caught the spray of mist in the air, and Alice admired the small rainbows dancing above the rocks. It was hard to reconcile the tranquil beauty before her with the savage ambush in the woods. Firmly, she pushed all thoughts of the scalping she had witnessed aside. She was so focused on turning her thoughts away from the unpleasant that she did not see Uncas studying her intently, eyes traveling over her delicate profile and lithe frame. Turning back, Alice saw Cora’s feet tangle in her skirts as she navigated the climb. It was a small rock face, barely more than a man high, but Alice doubted her ability to ascend. She took a deep breath before reaching for Duncan’s offered hand, feeling her boots slide on the slick, mossy rocks.

 

“I am not sure I can catch your hand, Duncan,” she said tremulously. It took a few moments of scrabbling against unforgiving rock, but eventually she was able to grip his hand to be assisted the rest of the way. Alice gulped in another breath, not realizing she had been anxiously holding it. Cora clasped her hand, and Alice patted it reassuringly, noting another long rent in her gown and tattered hem. By the time they reached the fort, her skirt would be in ribbons.

 

“Can I be helping ye?” Cora murmured, giving Alice’s hand a tender squeeze.

 

“I am fair done in, but we need to keep going,” Alice replied, taking a deep breath as Uncas easily ascended the rock face. Cora frowned. “Uncas has been keeping me from harm.”

 

Cora did not seem reassured, but their party began to walk again. No one spoke for some time. At first, Cora seemed to be determined to stay by Alice’s side, but the desire to keep pace with Duncan and Mr. Poe eventually won out. Alice did not repine. The two men seemed likely to come to blows half the time, and her druthers were to leave peacemaking to Cora, however ill-suited her sister might be to it. Alice found it unlikely that either man would listen to her in the alternative. Closing her eyes for a moment, Alice turned her face up to the sun’s warmth, not realizing the picture she made with her hair lit in gold.

 

They stopped to rest once more at dusk, the air starting to give Alice a chill without the sun to warm her. Sodden skirts and petticoats stuck to her legs, making each uphill step an effort. Alice found herself leaning more heavily on Uncas’ arm, weaving as if she were daft or drunk. It was humiliating in the face of Cora’s unbowed strength. If only she weren’t so _damnably_ frail.

 

As they neared the rest of the party, Alice sighed when she heard Duncan arguing with Mr. Poe about an appropriate pace for the ladies. Duncan wished to cease walking immediately, with Cora hotly disputing the assertion that they could go no further. However, rather than defuse the situation, Cora turned to take umbrage with Mr. Poe’s suggestion that they continue to travel through the night. It was clear to Alice that both men were fighting over Cora herself, rather than the plans for the night. She was loath to interfere, as Alice felt she had burdened the party enough with her inability to keep pace. Alice looked to Uncas and Chingachgook, but neither man’s face indicated their feelings on the matter. Alice bit her lip and turned back to the argument at hand, resigning herself to interference.

 

“Think we should go as far as the northern stretch of caves. Stop there for the night. Rain’s coming,” Uncas said.

 

Alice blinked in surprise, looking back at the two Indians. Chingachgook had slanted his eyes to look at his son, but Alice could not decipher the twitch of his brow. Uncas, for his part, looked unperturbed. Alice wondered if he was accustomed to mediating Mr. Poe’s arguments. The man was decidedly surly at times. Regardless, Alice had no desire to walk in the rain. She gave Uncas a grateful smile before taking her sister’s arm. Cora looked a bit put out over the quick ending to the disagreement, and Alice gave her sister’s arm a gentle pat, knowing that she was just as overwrought as Alice felt. Cora always bickered when she was upset.

 

Their party lapsed once more into silence as Alice meditated on the two men before her. Mr. Poe’s face had already smoothed itself into the calm lines of his father and brother. His anger was like a summer storm, full of thunder and lightning, but clearing the air once it dissipated. Duncan was a disappointment. As a boy, he had been quick to forgive. Now, he was like a pond of weeds and algae, being taken over by his grudges. Alice knew it was hard to be a Scot in the King’s service, but Duncan’s rigid adherence to order was only to his detriment. Those who would doubt his loyalty – or Papa’s for that matter, Alice had seen it before – would never be satisfied by their service. Even perfect obedience would be suspect. Duncan would lose Cora’s respect if he continued to carry on as he had, for though Cora was a loyalist, she did not give a fig for orderly obedience.

 

The rain began not long after that. Alice shivered in her dress, struggling to hold up her sopping skirt and petticoats. The pace increased. Alice kept a tight grip on Cora’s arm, blinking rapidly to keep the water out of her eyes. _But the Lord is faithful, and he will strengthen and protect you_ , Alice told herself. It was not a heavy rain, and she tried to find the spirit to thank God for such a mercy. Instead, her mind turned back to the ambush on the road, wondering why the Lord had allowed those poor soldiers to be butchered and scalped. She shivered, more from the remembrance of that dripping flesh than any chill in the air. _Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding_ , Alice tried again. Instead, her spirit mocked her with the remembrance of the screams. She closed her eyes, pressing her lips into a firm line.

 

“Alice?”

 

Alice started, looking at her sister. She must have let her mind wander for too long as Cora was studying her in concern. “I am fine, Cora,” she said, trying to sound reassuring. Even to her own ears, her voice sounded weak. They reached the caves before the rain began to truly pour, and Alice tried to be grateful for the small mercy. Tucked back, far from its mouth, Alice huddled with her sister as the men began to start a fire. Duncan had immediately given Cora his redcoat, apologetic that he had only one jacket to give. Cora bristled and immediately wrapped the woolen coat around Alice as if her own teeth were not chattering. Alice leaned her head against her sister’s shoulder, and clasped her hand with a squeeze. Duncan’s coat would do little to keep her warm with so many layers of sodden skirts about her legs and there was no need for Cora to take umbrage over something so minor. Duncan frowned, and Alice found herself dissatisfied with his incessant tendency to check her sister. If anything, she had expected him to admire Cora’s strength in adversity, as Alice had felt envy for such fortitude many times since the attack.

 

Once the fire had been stoked, Alice and Cora approached, hoping closer proximity to the blaze would help their clothes dry quicker in the damp of the cave. Alice took a moment to peer out into the darkness of the forest, clenching her teeth together to keep from chattering. Their scout – this Magua who had attacked them – had escaped. Would he follow the party to try again? Weakly, Alice let herself slide to the floor, pulling her legs up to rest her head on her knees. She felt utterly helpless and with her faith shaken. Papa would not have sent for them if it was unsafe. _Where_ did matters go so wrong? A warm hand rested at the crown of her head, and Alice jerked her head upright to see Uncas looking down at her. Alice blinked, noticing Cora on the other side of the flames, hands on her hips and ready to distract herself with a squabble. Alice sighed and wearily refocused her attention on Uncas.

 

“Try to sleep. I will keep watch,” he told her, voice mild and low.

 

Alice swallowed the lump in her throat. It felt like her heart gave a giant throb at the promise of safety. “Thank you,” she whispered and lowered her head back to her knees. She closed her eyes and tried to focus on the sound of the crackling fire, pushing away worries as they came to her mind. Eventually, she dropped off into a deep sleep, too tired to notice Cora eventually curl up beside her. She did not see Uncas’ frequent looks of admiration through the night, despite her tangled hair and muddy skirts. She did not see the wry twist to Nathaniel’s mouth when he looked at his brother, or Duncan’s many displeased frowns. All she saw, when she awoke, was Uncas in the same place he had been when she went to sleep, this time scanning the forest at dawn’s first light. He had watched over her all night.


	2. Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alice references Hobbes and Shaftesbury and the enlightenment debate over human nature and man's innate morality. According to the script for the movie, Cora is described as “unconventional in that she’s educated, but with conventional values and attitudes.” My personal headcanon has Colonel Munro very invested in his daughters, and thus they receive an education similar to Theodosia Burr Alston (not quite a contemporary, but it does provide a template for what a “well-educated” woman might have covered for the time – philosophy was certainly a subject of study). While intelligent, neither woman is a genius – they simply received an atypical education for the time and were encouraged to pursue their interests and talents.

**_Near Se-rach-ta-gue Lake, New York_ **

**_August, 1757_ **

 

***

 

It was early, with dawn’s first light creeping over the tops of the forest trees. Feeling groggy from her fitful sleep, Alice sat in silence and watched the sky shift from purple to orange to pink. It was wondrous. Cora had always lacked the patience for art – so funny, when she could spend hours sewing up men in the surgery – but Alice had always loved paintings and sketches. At Portman Square, she had treasured the few prints on her walls and the many books of illustrations Papa had ordered for her. She had spent hours copying botanical prints, always trying to form her work _just so_. Even if she had not the talent to replicate true genius, she found peace in sketching at Hyde Park or attempting to watercolor. For a moment, she was lost in the sky, finding herself wishing for her paints – and then she recalled the past day and suppressed a shudder. Cora slept on tucked up on her shoulder, seemingly undisturbed. Alice pressed her lips firmly together and noted the men starting to stir. Her still-damp petticoats clung to her legs, not fully dry despite a night by the fire.

 

Looking up at Uncas standing at the mouth of the cave, Alice noticed he was looking up at the sky, rather than the forest. It made her wonder at the term _savage_ . Was a man who could note the beauty of a sunrise truly _savage_ ? Was a man who rescued total strangers for no discernable gain truly _less than_ the poltroons and vagabonds who littered His Majesty’s Service? London society was quick to write off the Highlands as an unregulated backwater; indeed, Alice had inured herself to all sorts of backhanded slights in London’s drawing rooms. She had, perhaps, been just as ill-bred in her judgment of the Americas and its people. It shamed her now, her excitement to write home about the red men, and the exaggerated tales she had sent to cousin Eugenie. She had always recoiled from the cynicism of man during her readings of Hobbes - perhaps Shaftesbury _had_ been correct that a sense of morality was innate. These men who had saved them appeared uncorrupted by civilization and its excess. They had nobly saved unknown women in danger and gallantly escorted the remains of their party toward its final destination. It felt uncharitable to call their rescuers savage, when contrasted with the animalistic, naked war party that had attacked their column.

 

Alice’s thoughts were interrupted by Chingachgook’s return to the mouth of the cave, bearing fish for the party to eat. It was odd to realize she was not hungry. Throughout their journey yesterday, she suffered no pangs, only a twisting, sour stomach from worry. Despite the arduous walk, she felt nothing at all this morning, save for a bone-deep weariness and a muddled head. The men ate, and Cora finally roused herself to eat some fish. All Alice could wish for was a bracing cup of tea near a roaring hearth in some dry clothes.

 

“Will you not eat?” Cora murmured.

 

Alice wrinkled her nose at the smell of the fish. Its glassy eye suddenly reminded her of the man she had seen scalped, his eyes going vacant as his flesh was ripped from his head. Alice’s stomach rebelled and she clapped a hand over her mouth, looking down at her knees and mutely shaking her head. She took a few rapid, shallow breaths and desperately tried to think back to the watercolor sky. Something, _anything_ to divert her mind.

 

“Alice?” Cora repeated, placing a concerned hand upon her clammy brow.

 

A canteen was pressed into her hand, and Alice took a small sip. Somehow, it helped. “I cannae eat it,” she whispered into her knees, keeping her head down. She could not see who had handed it to her.

 

The canteen was replaced by the press of a large rough hand, and Alice turned her head. Chingachgook carefully tipped a handful of berries into her palm. “Eat,” he said firmly, and stood to bank the fire. Alice flushed, realizing she had gained the attention of their entire party. They must think her a willful child, refusing to eat perfectly good food. She was ashamed, yet could not find the words to explain. She kept her head resolutely away from the fish. If she saw it again, she knew she would be sick. Hesitantly, she put the first berry in her mouth, its tart juice filling her mouth. It helped even more than the water. Slowly, she ate each berry in the meagre handful, before standing to join the party. Her head ached and felt like it was stuffed full of cotton wool like a doll. She shrugged out of Duncan’s redcoat, handing it back to him with words of thanks stuck in her throat. She shivered once in the damp cave air, before stepping out into the early morning light.

 

The silence stretched on. Duncan had, once again, taken up guard around Cora, much to her sister’s frustration. Alice found herself lagging behind their determined pace, this time being trailed by Mr. Poe to the rear as Uncas and Chingachgook ranged ahead. Alice did not mind the quiet, although she could see with Cora’s frequent turn of the head that her sister was eager to speak – either to Alice or their intrepid guide. Alice made little effort to gain ground on their party. She felt weary of everything this morning, even Cora’s gentle concern. A bit of quiet was welcome after the chaos of yesterday.

 

Mr. Poe was as reticent as his brother, saying little to Alice, although he offered his arm over rough terrain all the same. Each time she murmured her thanks, she could see the quirk of his mouth, as if he were mocking her manners – or perhaps she amended as she studied the man, amused at himself. Uncas seemed to take after his father. Both men were placid and undisturbed in their silence. Calm. There was an assurance and capability to their movements that left Alice wondering if they had walked this unmarked trail before. Mr. Poe was different, although no less assured and capable. His silence was full of energy, as if he were thinking hard and calculating his every move. She noted how often his eyes strayed to her sister and the determined tilt of his jaw.

 

He must have noticed her studying him, because her next glance found her looking straight into his eye, that wry twist once again present around his mouth. “Something I can help you with?”

 

Alice was surprised to find her mouth had quirked up into a small smile all on its own. “Merely lost in thought, Mr. Poe. We truly cannot thank you enough for your family’s assistance,” she murmured.

 

That sardonic smile lingered, but his eyes were seemed full of humor and suddenly more kind. “’Tis no matter. And I’m no mister, Miss Alice.”

 

“Your brother said the same yesterday.”

 

He gave a small _whuff_ of laughter, faint enough that Alice almost missed it. “Well, this ain’t your tea rooms back home.”

 

“Clan Munro fought for the Crown during the uprisings. Cora and I have not been truly home for a very long time,” Alice said wistfully. She thought of the tall crags in Alness and the green, green grass of the paddock. She could almost smell the heath and the heather, and hear the thunder rumble its way down the mountain.

 

“You miss it.”

 

“Aye.”

 

Nathaniel offered her an arm over a steeper portion of rock. He looked forward, to the front of the column and Alice followed his gaze to see Uncas give him an imperceptible nod. Uncas’ eyes drifted over and locked with hers. Alice paused mid-step before recovering herself, looking down to make sure her footing was secure and feeling shy under his direct regard. She felt exposed, perhaps – as if he could see all the silly thoughts that went through her head, or the growing ache that had begun in her feet. The back of her heels felt rubbed raw by her stiff little shoes and her silk stockings were in tatters. She could feel her braided  hair unraveling on the back of her head, ribbons lost some time before. She was too intent on her steps to catch any silent communication between the two brothers after that.

 

“Where is your home?” she asked him after a moment.

 

“Maybe west, in _Can-tuck-ee_. My father’s clan is gone now.” He gave a laconic shrug, as if he did not care where they resided. Even in London, with Aunt Agnes and cousin Eugenie and Cora, she felt untethered, so far from home. She tried to imagine life if all of Clan Munro were gone, if she had no home to which she could return. Alice could not fathom feeling so little regard for one’s circumstance.

 

“Because of the war?”

 

“For a long time now.” Nathaniel did not elaborate further.

 

“I’m sorry,” Alice murmured, and they lapsed into silence again. She looked out over the dense trees, with leaves gently waving in the breeze. It was blessedly cooler than the day before, and there were birds and squirrels and rabbits – all sorts of distracting things along the path. She stumbled, her foot catching on a tree root and Nathaniel caught her arm.

 

“Best pay attention to your feet, not the trees.”

 

Alice nodded, dutifully dropping her eyes to the ground for the next few steps. She had not seen Cora stumble _once_ , she noted with some envy. “The Highlands are beautiful. Sweeping mountains and green glens. But not like this – this is, this is truly indescribable,” she said after a moment.

 

“You could stay. Just have to build one o’ your _Yengeese_ castles here,” Nathaniel replied. Alice was starting to get a better sense of the man. Underneath the blunt words and sardonic looks, he had a streak of good humor. It hid about the corners of his mouth and the crinkles near his eyes. Alice was sure, under less strained circumstances, that he was quick to jest.

 

“A castle?” Alice caught herself smiling, the bit of merriment helping her feet feel lighter. “Nay, ‘twas nothing but a house and farm for us in Alness.”

 

“A mere dairy maid, you are.”

 

“Aye,” Alice replied broadly. There was a flash of true amusement on his face, but it left after only a moment.

 

They stopped to rest mid-morning, and Alice found herself feeling more restored than she had at the start of the walk. Her head had cleared and she felt capable of reassuring her sister in a voice that would not betray her lies. They had but little dried meat for each in their party, but enough cold water from the spring that it was invigorating. When they began to walk again, Nathaniel joined Cora and Duncan in low conversation. Alice found herself being shadowed by Uncas once more as she limped her way behind her sister. Alice glanced at the man beside her, eyes traveling over the bracelets banding his wrist and the tattoos creeping up under his sleeves. She wondered if it was like the Navy men, with needles dipped in ink – or did these red men paint them on somehow? Aunt Agnes would have been horrified by her thoughts, but Alice rather thought it would make Cora laugh. She resolved to innocently ask her sister the next time they were alone.

 

“How do you know where to go? Have you been to the fort before?” Alice asked, after Chingachgook signaled for the party to bear right.

 

“Not the fort. Been hunting these woods for years, though,” Uncas answered. He gave her a steady hand as she climbed over a rotting log.

 

“I thought you went to school?” Alice inquired. She wondered what school was like in the colonies. From the tales of the Fraser children, it sounded very odd. How did one teach a class with only one book? Alice could not think of _one_ book which could teach everything. She could not think of only reading one book – the same book – for the rest of her life. Her poems and novels were just as dear as her art.

 

“I went to Brother Rauch’s school, before the Moravians were driven out of Shekomeko. Most of the clan left with them. Pox took the rest. We came north instead. Been trapping ever since.” Uncas sounded so matter of fact in the retelling. Once again, Alice was struck by how _accepting_ these men were for events that Alice would have considered a tragedy. Was life in the colonies so harsh that great tragedies were to be recounted as if they were the menu for dinner? She furrowed her brow. She also had never heard of the Moravians. He must have sensed her confusion. “Missionaries,” he explained.

 

“Are you a Christian then?” she asked with some surprise. She had read the Indians worshipped silly things like the trees.

 

“They dunked me in water.” His eyes crinkled a bit, just like his brother.

 

Alice mouthed _Shekomeko_ to herself. It was another funny Indian word. Her train snagged on an errant bush, and Alice felt it rip when she yanked it free. She sighed, trying to lift the trailing brocade higher. Uncas briefly touched her on the arm, indicating she should stop. He pulled a knife from his belt and Alice startled, shrinking back slightly. He held his free hand palm up, before hacking away at the excess of her gown. In a few moments, her gown and petticoats were above her ankle, and the scraps thrown into Uncas’ pack.

 

“ _Yengeese_ clothes,” Uncas muttered, as Alice felt her cheeks flush at his perusal of her tattered, impractical shoes. Once, they had been covered in embroidered silk.

 

“It was meant for riding, not - not _this_ ,” Alice protested. Her eyes dropped. She counted the runs in her hose. The lovely clocks were ruined.

 

“Pah. Perched sideways on a horse like a bird,” he added, gesturing for her to start walking again.

 

Alice looked back up at him, closing her mouth which was still open in shock. At once, it all seemed absurd, especially when she remembered the simple gown and _arisaid_ she had worn at home before they had moved London. It had been so much easier then – and not even improper – to ride a horse _en cavalier_. Her cross-saddle and pony had been far more comfortable, too. A tiny giggle burbled up from somewhere deep in her chest and then she pressed her lips together tightly, although the corners of her mouth turned up into a grin.

 

Uncas gestured again for her to start walking, but he looked amused rather than impatient. “Come along, _chulens_.”

 

Alice began to walk again, noticing that the rest of the group had continued without pausing for her. “What does that mean? _Choo-lehns_?” she repeated slowly.

 

“ _Chulens_ ,” he corrected. “Bird.”

 

Alice had nothing to say to that, although the smile stretched wider across her face.

 

Time somehow moved rapidly and managed to drag at the same time. It was late afternoon when they reached a clearing where they might stop. They had paused back beyond the tree line, and Alice watched the three men examine track marks on the ground. Her light mood of the afternoon slowly deflated. She could not see over the corn stalks, but she could smell the char in the air. It was too quiet to be a homestead. The only sound she could hear was the birds. Alice had a foreboding sense that the war party they had encountered may have passed through the area. She wondered why these poor people lived so exposed to the whims of savages. Why were they so far from Albany and its civilization?

 

Warily, Alice climbed over the split-rail fence, trailing behind as the three men advanced with their rifles. Chingachgook signaled them forward, and Alice followed. A burned shell of a cabin came into view. Uncas had paused over the body of a woman, and for a moment, Alice saw a flash of raw emotion in his face. They had known these people. Alice could smell the blood mingling with the gunpowder and ashes. She looked away, back toward the trees, fisting her trembling hands in her skirt. A scream echoed in her head with the cacophony of gunshots - _the sound of a knife ripping through flesh_ \- _blood dripping from a scalp dangling in a naked man’s hands_ \- Alice tried to take a deep breath, feeling once more like her stays were laced tight and she could not breathe. She was drowning. She rapidly tried to fill her lungs and failed. The horse – or was it a man – wouldn’t stop screaming in her head. She couldn’t – she couldn’t –

 

“Alice?”

 

Alice felt a hand on her shoulder and she jerked, whirling around to see her sister looking at her with concern. Nathaniel and Uncas were returning from the house with their faces set in stark lines. Neither spoke. Alice shook her head, unable to muster any words for Cora. That sour feeling had set in her stomach once more. Cora turned briefly from her to look at the homestead, an undisguised look of horror on her face. Duncan made move the bury the bodies, and Alice could not suppress a shudder as she kept her eyes on the trees, rather than the carnage around her. She needed to _move_ , to find herself as far away as she could from blood and bone, and to breathe air that did not smell of gunpowder and ruin.

 

Alice gripped her sister’s hand, trying to urge restraint, when Cora began to argue over a Christian burial. She was shaken by the scene, and it blinded Cora from seeing that these poor souls were not strangers to their rescuers. Alice squeezed her sister’s hand tighter when she accused them of cruel indifference, heart racing as Alice considered the men might abandon them at this juncture. Alice was far too used to Cora’s bluntness to be offended – but these men did not know her sister, did not know that undercurrent of hurt when she uttered harsh words in fear, not anger. Alice looked at the ground, unable to look at their faces. She did not want to see their backs as they left them to their fate. The ground started to tip, slowly –

 

Instead, Nathaniel came back to exchange hard words with Cora, and Alice snapped back to attention, noticing her hand had gone slack in Cora’s grip. She firmly re-clasped their hands and took a deep breath through her mouth, trying not to smell anything. As Cora looked back toward the homestead once more, Alice placed an arm around her sister’s waist, urging her back toward the woods. Every step led them closer to Papa. Alice tried to remind herself of that often. They would be safe, once they got to Papa.

 

No one spoke the rest of the day. By nightfall, they were in dense forest, away from any caves that would shelter them for the night. The air was damp and humid, but with few clouds, promising a dry night. The party hid themselves on higher ground, under a copse of trees and underbrush to conceal themselves as best they could. Duncan had spread his redcoat on the ground for Alice and Cora to rest, but Alice could tell her sister was far too agitated to try and sleep.

 

Alice lay down and closed her eyes, but could not stop her thoughts from turning back toward the settlers in the clearing. Cora made a few attempts to speak, but Alice made little reply. Her silence eventually drove Cora to Nathaniel’s side. They were speaking lowly, too far for Alice to make out any details of the conversation. It did not take long for Duncan to leave her as well, drifting closer to keep an eye on Cora and Nathaniel. Alice squinted her eyes, trying to make out the rest of their party in the dark. She could not see Uncas or Chingachgook anywhere. Alice let her eyes drift close again, weary but unable to truly rest. _God is our refuge and strength, an ever-present help in trouble_ , she told herself. She wondered if those poor people at the settlement had prayed when the war party hit. Cora was the one with unshakeable faith – Alice had always struggled with doubt.

 

A tree branch cracked, too heavy to be an animal.

 

Alice’s eyes flew open. There were dark shapes below, perhaps a handful of men. They would be attacked again. She drew in a shaky breath, and then another. She could not seem to get any air. Her heart raced, and Alice wondered if it could fly out of her chest. It was beating so rapidly it hurt. She choked down a whimper and raised her head slightly to see if the shadows were coming closer. A hand came over her mouth and pulled her head back down. The hand muffled the sob that escaped over the lump in her throat. Before she could try to thrash her way out of the grip, a ghost of air brushed by her ear.

 

“’Tis only me, Miss Alice.” Alice blinked, turning her head to see Uncas crouched next to her, face impossibly close to hers. He kept his hand over her mouth, although his grip slackened as she relaxed. He eased back, placing a free hand on his rifle. The minutes slid by interminably. Why weren’t they being attacked? Alice stiffened, realizing her cheek was pressed into the buckskin leather of his trousers. Her head was practically in his _lap_. It was – it was –

 

His hand slid from her mouth to her elbow, helping her to sit up. He leaned forward. “They are leaving. Safe now,” he whispered.

 

Alice looked at him with wide eyes, frozen in place. He shifted as if to move, and Alice found herself grasping his hand as quickly as she would her sister’s. She opened her mouth to speak but had no words. The lump in her throat was still there. The moon passed behind a cloud. It was so dark, she could barely make out the features of his face. The palm of his hand was rough and he had long fingers that would have suited the pianoforte. Nonsensically, Alice wondered if he had ever played. “ _Led’thoil_ ,” she hissed. The cloud passed, and the sliver of the moon gave enough illumination that she could she his brow furrowed in puzzlement. She blinked, realizing she hadn’t spoken in English. “My head is a muddle,” she mumbled. She didn’t let go of his hand.

 

“Sleep. They won’t be back.”

 

Alice blinked again, wanting to question the surety of his tone. Instead, she eased herself back to the ground. The loam was softer than the previous night’s rocks. Another cloud slowly began to blot out the moon. Uncas stretched his legs out beside her and Alice felt an urge to press her cheek against the buckskin of his trousers once more. She didn’t move; her face burned with embarrassment. He loosened his soft grip of her hand. Her hair spilled loosely over the earth without her cap. After a moment, she felt tentative fingers stroke her hair. With a tiny sigh, Alice closed her eyes and slept.


End file.
